Quidditch Camp
by Penny and Goten
Summary: Draco was elated to find out he was going to the most prestigious camps in the world, only to find Harry Potter would also be accompanying him. It turns out that working together is the LEAST of their worries. PREHBP
1. Congratulations

**Quidditch Camp**

_**By Goten0040 and Pennilyn Novus**_

_**(Summary: Draco was elated to find out he was going to the most prestigious camps in the world, only to find Harry Potter would also be accompanying him. It turns out that working together is the LEAST of their worries.)**_

**Chapter One**

_CONGRATULATIONS, YOU'VE BEEN INVITED TO QUIDDITCH CAMP_

Draco read the words silently on the paper. He couldn't get past that top line. He just stared at it. He could feel something gnawing at the back of his neck, urging him to DO something. Maybe reading further down would be smart.

But he just couldn't get past that top line. He'd heard about the Quidditch Camp. It was taught for the best, by the best. In fact, most of the Quidditch stars he'd grown up watching went to the camp in the summer after their sixth or seventh year. And he'd been invited. He was one of the best.

Such a thought sent a rush of adrenaline through his veins and he found himself trembling with an excitement. He wanted to scream, laugh, run around, maybe even cry. But all he did was read that first line.

"Draco, what in the devil have you got there that's left you so speechless?" Severus' voice broke the silence. "I do believe you are supposed to be studying. For _my_ exam." His voice was always so droll, it was hard to listen.

"P-professor Snape?..." Draco looked up and Snape appeared taken aback.

"By God, Malfoy. What has you so pale? You look like death."

"Th-they..." damn! Now he couldn't say it! He could feel it overwhelm him.

Snape reached over and snatched the letter, being as impatient as he was, and read over the lines, much quicker than Draco could have mustered. In a rare moment, a smile crept across Snape's face and he looked over the parchment, his charcoal eyes almost twinkling. Almost.

"Well, I believe you should take this to breakfast," he said.

Draco grabbed the parchment without a word and ran down the hallway. He ran so fast, he could have sworn he was going light-speed. His adrenaline was rushing through his veins, pumping his heart to an almost explosive rhythm. He burst through the doors of the Great Hall and rushed to his table.

"Crabbe, Goyle, Blaise, Pansy, all of you!" he said in a harsh whisper.

They all looked at him with strange expressions. Draco rolled out the parchment as if it were a treasure map.

His classmates leaned in closer, Pansy peering curiously over his shoulder. "Quidditch camp?" she asked, wrinkling her nose. "What is that?"

Crabbe and Goyle broke out into identical, idiotic grins. Blaise, on the other hand, whistled, clearly impressed.

Then, with a snarky, sideways smirk, he said, "Well, nobody can say you bought your way onto the Quidditch team now."

Draco laughed out loud, feeling absolutely giddy.

On the other side of the hall, Harry absently retrieved his post from Hedwig, who nibbled on his fingers affectionately. He fed her a bit of bacon from his plate and stared at the unfamiliar seal on the letter.

"Who's it from, Harry?" Hermione asked, unfolding the latest _Daily Prophet_.

"Dunno," he said. He cracked the seal and unfolded the note.

_CONGRATULATIONS, YOU'VE BEEN INVITED TO QUIDDITCH CAMP_

Harry almost spit out a mouthful of pumpkin juice. He quickly read the rest of the letter, ignoring Hermione, who was staring at him in concern.

"Quidditch Camp?" he choked out, his eyes wide.

"WHAT?" Ron yelped, pulling the letter from Harry's loose fingers. "Harry! This is incredible! They only invite the best of the best!" Ron gazed at the letter wistfully.

Harry swallowed hard, his elation dampened as he watched Ron surreptitiously glance up, searching for Pig. "Maybe they just haven't gotten to Keepers yet," he offered lamely, taking his letter back.

Ron snorted and slapped Harry on the back jovially. "They only invite the best, Harry. You're the best player in the school."

Harry grinned and examined his invitation again. He announced happily, "I'm to report to camp straight from King's Cross!"

"Brilliant!" Ron replied, grinning.

"Congratulations, Harry!" Hermione said. "You deserve to have some fun, for a change."

Ginny breezed up to the table, smelling lovely, as always. She plopped down between Harry and Ron, and looked around, taking in their smiling faces.

"Why's everyone so happy this morning?" she asked grumpily.

Harry smiled sympathetically at Ginny, who was exhausted from studying for her final exams. He proudly held out his letter, and with a quizzical glance at him, she took it and began to read. Her eyes grew wide and she looked back at Harry, looking awed.

"Harry, this is amazing!" She threw her arms around him and gave him a huge hug.

"Thanks, Ginny!" he said, thinking that Hermione was right. He _did_ deserve to have some fun, for a change.

…

Draco, a bit jittery after his exciting morning, ate about two bites of toast and then spent the rest of breakfast staring happily into the distance. Then Dumbledore stood, and the Great Hall grew quiet. The food vanished from their plates as their eyes were cast upon the great figure of Hogwarts School. Draco knew what he was going to say.

"Teachers, students, staff," he announced in that voice that made him sound strong and noble (which Draco didn't believe), "I have an announcement to make."

_That's right, Dumbledore. Give me glory. After all, I deserve it_, Draco thought with a large grin.

"We have two students that will be going to the prestigious and very popular Quidditch Camp."

If the Hall could have been quieter, it would have. A hush fell around them all.

"Wait... two?!"

"Mr. Draco Malfoy... and Mr. Harry Potter."

"WHAT?!" Draco's grin vanished from his face and it paled significantly.

He turned his head silently towards Potter and found him staring back with probably the same look he had.

The Slytherins and Gryffindors shared an awkward moment, then jumped into a roar of applause... if anything, to keep them from killing each other.

…

_Draco Malfoy?_

Harry sat, stunned. He couldn't believe his luck; finally something good was happening to him, and now he had to share it with bloody Draco Malfoy.

"Oh, go on, Harry," Ron said enthusiastically as the seventh year Gryffindors began to crowd around them. "You'll probably hardly see him."

"That's right," said Ginny, her face shining happily. "I bet he'll get kicked out after they realize he's rubbish."

"Yeah," Harry responded, his excitement winning out again. "You're right. This is going to be brilliant!"

Ron's response was lost amid the rush of admirers, who swarmed around Harry to congratulate him. Harry couldn't help it; he glanced over at the Slytherin table and saw a similar horde surrounding his pale rival. Malfoy wouldn't last a week.

He lost track of how many hands he shook, and his shoulders began to ache from all the enthusiastic pats on the back, but when Ron and Ginny finally extricated him from the excited mass, he realized that he needed to get ready. He only had a week to pack, after all. But Ron and Ginny would have none of that.

"Come on, Harry," Ginny said, pulling him towards the front door of the castle. "Let's go practice some of those killer moves of yours."

With a somewhat silly grin, Harry let them drag him down to the Quidditch pitch.

…

_It could have been anyone but Potter,_ Draco thought as he folded a shirt and placed it in his trunk. His eyes fell upon his window as an owl flew in, a letter attached to its leg.

"'Ello what's this?" he murmured, approaching it. He hadn't been expecting another letter.

Noting the green and silver seal, he knew it was from his father.

_Draco:_

I have received the news of your Quidditch camp priorities over the summer and have also received information that you shall be sharing this experience with Harry Potter. I have explained this to the Dark Lord and we believe that this would be a good time to get information on the Potter boy. I will be expecting letters during the summer.

Your Father,  
Lucius Malfoy

Draco sighed. _Figures._ His father never even congratulated him. Just put more work on his back. He sighed. There was no point in feeling bad about it. He was still going to Quidditch camp. The thought made his blood bubble excitedly.

"Forget Potter. Forget Dad. I'm still one of the best!" he said to himself, latching his trunk shut. A grin grew wide on his face and he chuckled at his success.

He glanced out the open window, his ears prickling to the sound of laughter. Potter and his friends were having fun on the Quidditch pitch.

"You just wait, Potter. I'll show you up." He closed the window violently and gave himself his signature Malfoy smirk in the mirror

…

The sun was setting when Harry landed on the ground, laughing and worn out from perfecting his Wronski Feint. Ron landed beside him and collapsed on the ground, staring up at the deepening shades of the sky.

"I'm beat!" he groaned. "And hungry!"

"No wonder," Ginny said as she landed gracefully. "It must be time for dinner."

Harry gave Ron a hand up, and looked over at the stands, spying Hermione as she packed up her books and parchment. She joined them a moment later, and they all headed back for the castle.

"Think you're ready, Harry?" Ginny asked.

With a smile, Harry tightened his grip on his broom. He was getting one summer to do what he loved best, one summer to fly and dive and swoop, and most importantly, one summer away from the war. Even if he had to put up with Draco Malfoy's presence, he figured he'd never been more ready for anything in his life, and said so.

"Watch your back around Malfoy, mate," Ron said lowly to him. "I know he's a spineless little git, but he could try to cause trouble for you."

Harry nodded in acknowledgement and gave his friend a pat on the back. "I'm not worried about Malfoy. It's the trainers I have to worry about!"

Ron slapped his back in return. "Well, we've got all week to whip you into shape. Maybe Hermione can draw us up a practice schedule."

Harry rolled his eyes and shot a sideways glance at Hermione, becoming alarmed when she dug into her bag and retrieved a crisp piece of parchment.

"Already taken care of!" she announced cheerily, passing the parchment to Ron.

Harry stared at her for a matter of moments until the situation grew awkward and Hermione put it away, just for the time being.

"Um... I wonder how it works. The camp is so secretive sometimes," Ginny broke the silence.

"They have to keep it secret to protect their sacred teachings!" Ron exclaimed.

"Puh-lease, Ron. It's not a religion," Hermione said flatly.

"Yeah, tell that to the stadiums of Quidditch fans," Ron replied bitterly.

Harry broke between them to say something when Dumbledore called him over, right outside the Great Hall.

"Hello, Harry," he said with twinkling eyes. "I saw your practice sessions went well. I don't want to keep you from dinner, but will you and Mr. Malfoy please accompany me in my office afterwards?"

"Oh... sir. You know, I don't speak much to Malfoy," Harry said, scratching the back of his head.

"You should learn to," he said with a smile on his face. "After dinner, Harry. Don't be late!"

He turned and went into the Great Hall, magnificent robes fluttering behind him.

"What on earth did he mean by that?" Harry thought curiously.

Dinner fell upon the Great Hall in a large blast of clinking forks and plates and speech. Harry took it in with warmth, knowing how wonderful the food would taste after his late workout. He took a step toward his table when someone shoved past him, nearly knocking him into Neville's soup.

"Hey!" he yelled in retort.

He stared as he watched Malfoy rush to the table, grab some bread, and head back out of the hall without a word to anyone.

"H-hey... hey, wait!" He grabbed Malfoy's sleeve.

Malfoy whirled on him with a piece of bread halfway stuffed in his mouth.

"What the hell do you want?" he asked, muffled by bread, face disgusted.

"Dumbledore wants to see us after dinner."

Draco swallowed the piece he was chewing on and ran a hand through his hair. "Whatever."

"That's it?"

Draco whirled on him again. "Let me put this into words you understand since you obviously haven't gotten it in the past few years we've known each other. GO A-WAY." And he rushed out.

"Sheesh, he seems even ruder than usual considering he ran into me..."

"Oh blow him, Harry. Let's get some food," Ron said, patting him on the shoulder.


	2. Meeting with the Headmaster

**A/N: Here's the next chapter in our story! Thanks for reading, and leave us a review!**

Chapter 2: Meeting with the Headmaster

When Harry saw the headmaster get up to leave, he finished chewing a mouthful of treacle tart and washed it down with a gulp of pumpkin juice.

"See you later," he said above the din of eating and talking students. Hermione looked up and waved, and Ginny squeezed his hand and gave him a smile, but Ron only grunted in response, his head still bent low over his plate. Harry snorted and shook his head.

He met Dumbledore in the Entrance Hall.

"Thank you for being so prompt, Harry. Let us adjourn to my office." Dumbledore started up the stairs but Harry lagged behind.

"But – Malfoy?"

A small smile creased Dumbledore's wrinkled face as he glanced over his shoulder at Harry. "I am certain Mr. Malfoy will grace us with his presence shortly. But for now, Harry, let us go." He waited until Harry began to climb the stairs before turning and making his own way up.

Harry watched Dumbledore as he ascended. It suddenly occurred to him just how old Dumbledore was; he had seen Dumbledore, in the past, step so lightly he might have been a hundred years younger, but it seemed recently, the old wizard was feeling his age. Suddenly concerned, Harry skipped the steps two at a time until he was by Dumbledore's side.

"You're a good boy, Harry," Dumbledore said kindly. "Do not worry about me."

Harry didn't know _how_ Dumbledore did that. He shook his head.

When they finally reached the seventh floor, they found Malfoy leaning insolently against the gargoyle, an annoyed frown on his face. He stepped away and looked even more disgusted as the gargoyle sprang aside when Dumbledore touched it lightly with his old hand. _Probably wanted to know the password_, Harry thought.

"Please, have a seat," Dumbledore said, sitting behind his desk. "Lemon drop?"

Malfoy sneered ungraciously and arranged himself in one of the chairs before the large desk. Harry's fingers itched for his wand; he wanted nothing more than to blast that insufferable sneer off Malfoy's pointy, disrespectful little face. Instead, he took a deep breath and scooped up a few of the proffered sweets.

"Thank you, sir," he said, taking a seat in the other available chair.

Dumbledore paused a moment, the glass dish still in his outstretched hand, and a look of amusement on his face. Harry wondered if he was the first person to ever actually accept a lemon drop. Dumbledore set the dish on the corner of his desk and sat back, looking from Harry to Malfoy, and back again.

"Quidditch camp is quite an accomplishment," he said, and Harry was struck by how fatherly his tone was. "I am very proud of the both of you. Harry, I know your parents would be very proud as well, and Draco, I am sure that your father is quite proud, in his own way."

Harry ducked his head and smiled, feeling warm at the thought of his parents. He heard Malfoy shift in his seat and glanced at the other boy. The sneer was gone and he was staring back at Dumbledore, a very strange, almost sad, look in his eyes. Harry looked back into his lap, unable to process that information. "Thank you, sir," he said again, and was even more shocked when he heard Malfoy mumble something that sounded very much the same.

"You've both shown incredible talent on the pitch –" And here, Harry suppressed a snort, remembering that Malfoy had bought his way onto the team, "– and given all of us several heart-stopping moments. You are both incredibly important young men," Dumbledore paused, "and unfortunately, this makes your attending this camp very dangerous."

Harry's head shot up. Dumbledore wasn't going to say he _couldn't_ go, was he? Draco appeared to be having similar thoughts, a look of outrage growing on his pale face.

"So there will be extra security precautions taken for the two of you. And I must ask each of you, to promise me, no matter what else happens, that you will not leave the campgrounds this summer."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief and glanced at Draco again. There was still fire in the other boy's eyes as he glared at Dumbledore. Harry shrugged and said, "Yes, sir." Draco looked at him and sneered.

"Mr. Malfoy," Dumbledore said, his eyes moving to the blond-haired boy. "I must ask you to do me a favor."

"What might that be, sir?" Draco replied, eyes dark and teeth gritting.

"I would suggest you keep your... pride... in check. You too, Mr. Potter. Many at the campgrounds are brutal, and I have no control over what could happen there."

"Pardon my boldness, sir, but I do believe your control over the situation is terminated because it is not your school. I would suggest you not worry about _my_ summer and worry more about _yours_."

Harry stared at Draco, aghast and infuriated. "MALFOY!"

"Stay out of this, Potter," Draco spat with complete disregard for the Headmaster. "Unless you'd rather go join your parents!"

"I'll send you to meet them!"

"Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Potter," Dumbledore spoke up, loudly, but not harshly.

Both of them stopped bickering to look at the Headmaster. Draco's eyes widened.

"I would suggest you both learn to get along. Students are Housed by school and by position at Quidditch camp. You two are the only Seekers and the only ones from Hogwarts."

"Wh-what?" Draco grew pale.

"P-pardon, sir?" Harry felt the color drain from his face as well.

"You will both be rooming together and..." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled almost maliciously, "I've already spoken to the leaders of the camp and they've agreed to let me know if any fighting goes on between my former students. Any outbursts and you'll be thrown out. They've given me at least that in a freedom."

"Sir, that's blasphemy!" Harry yelled. "I couldn't possibly-"

"That's ridiculous, Headmaster!" Draco interrupted with just as much malice.

"I will have none of this," Dumbledore said calmly and raised his hand to cease their arguments.

"Mr. Malfoy, I suspect you are angry for other reasons besides my previous speech," he said and he gazed at Draco with a knowing look. Draco quieted. "And Mr. Potter, I will expect much more maturity from you than I have received this evening. You're both good boys, and excellent Quidditch players. I would suggest you keep that in mind."

"I... I apologize, sir," Harry said.

"You are forgiven, Harry."

"My actions this evening were deplorable," Draco said suddenly, looking down at his feet. "I also apologize for my actions." He looked up fiercely. "But not for my words."

"You may keep your strength, Draco. And your pride is strong and true. But please, Draco, use it at the right time, I beg of you."

"I listen not to beggars, Headmaster."

He smiled. "Fair enough, Draco."

Draco shoved his hands in his pockets.

"But I know your anger comes forth when nervous."

"You know nothing of me!" he growled. "Goodnight, Headmaster." He turned and stormed out.

"That... didn't go well," Harry said.

"I do hope you'll both learn how to be around each other," the headmaster said, looking weary. "For if you can't... well, I really don't wish to believe that to happen."

"I... I'm sorry about Malfoy."

"No worries, Harry," he said, smiling. "You don't know enough about Malfoy to understand his actions. I suggest you observe him. Perhaps this rooming situation will help you come to observe and understand."

"I'm sorry sir, but I don't think I'll ever understand Malfoy. Goodnight, Headmaster."

Harry waved goodnight and turned and walked out the door and down the staircase.

When Harry stepped through the portrait hole, a crowd of his housemates rushed to greet him.

Dennis Creevy fought his way to the front, holding out a quill and parchment. "Harry, can I have your autograph?"

Harry stared at the smaller boy incredulously. "What for?"

"I reckon you're going to be a famous Quidditch player after this summer, so I want it so I can say I had it before you were famous." Dennis stopped, looking perplexed. "Well, before you were famous for Quidditch."

Unable to form words, Harry numbly accepted the quill and scrawled his name, and then looked up, desperately searching for his friends. He saw Ron's tall head fighting through the push of students, and a pale arm darted out, pulling Harry away from the throng.

"Thanks, mate," Harry said gratefully. He straightened his glasses, which had gotten knocked askew by someone's elbow, and followed Ron up the stairs to their room. He was not surprised to see Hermione and Ginny already waiting for them.

"You alright, Harry?" Hermione asked, looking up from Ron's battered copy of _Quidditch Through the Ages_.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks, causing Ron to run into him. "Hermione," he asked slowly, in disbelief. "What are you reading?"

Hermione held up the book, looking thoughtful. "I never realized how complex the history of Quidditch is," she started. "For instance, did you know that –"

"So, what did Professor Dumbledore want?" Ginny interrupted. Harry hid his smile as he heard Ron guffaw quietly behind him. Hermione looked slightly miffed.

Harry explained what Dumbledore had said, leaving out the part about his parents being proud, and instead focused on Malfoy's deplorable behavior.

"You have to _room_ with him?" Ron practically shouted, jumping off his bed. "That's just – that's –"

"…going to make it hard for me to avoid him," Harry sighed. "But when he gets thrown out, that means I'll have the entire room to myself."

Ginny grinned and tried to stifle a yawn. "Sorry," she said. "All that practice earlier kind of wore me out. I'm going to go see if I can get some coffee from the kitchen." She stood and stretched, her shirt riding up slightly, and Harry felt his eyes being drawn to the slight patch of skin showing just above her navel. "Anyone want to come with?"

"I'll go," Harry volunteered. "Just…let me put on my Invisibility Cloak first."

Draco slammed his trunk shut for the fifth time since he'd gotten back from his ridiculous meeting with Potter and Dumbledore. He glanced at the book he'd pulled out, not quite sure why he'd wanted it, and opened his trunk again, tossing the book back inside before slamming the lid shut for the sixth time.

"Must you keep doing that?" Blaise hissed, propping himself up on his elbow, his book resting on his stomach. "You're interrupting my reading."

"You don't have to read in here, then," Draco snapped back, pointing his wand at the door, which flew open with a crash.

Blaise sat up. "What's got your pants in a twist?" he groused, snapping his book shut.

"None of your concern," Draco ground out, turning away from his annoyed friend. He heard Blaise sigh heavily.

"Fine, then. I'll leave you to your tantrum."

Draco turned, the hex already leaving his wand, but Blaise slammed the door shut behind him, causing the hex to rebound uselessly.

"Tantrum…" Draco sniffed. "I'll show you a bloody tantrum." He kicked his trunk and immediately regretted it, falling back onto his bed as waves of pain shot through his foot. "Stupid Potter," he hissed, rubbing his toes. "Doddering old fool," he continued.

Imagine! Telling a Malfoy to keep his pride in check. Ordering him not to leave the confines of the camp like some little baby. Acting like he knew what Draco was thinking and feeling. Arranging it so he couldn't give Potter what for.

And Potter! That rotten, no good, goody-two-shoes Gryffindor…agreeing so easily, and apologizing, making Draco look bad. The fact that Potter was even going to the camp was something of a shock to Draco; after all, it was widely accepted that Harry only caught the snitch because of his faster broom and his annoying good luck.

Well, no matter. It wouldn't take long for the trainers to see that Potter wasn't all he was cracked up to be, and then The-Boy-Who-Lived would be sent packing and Draco would have the whole glorious room to himself. Although, it would be rather difficult to gather information for his father if Potter got himself sent home. Draco thought about the letter that he had burned on the common room fire while everyone else was off at dinner, and shrugged his shoulders. If Potter got himself sent home, there was nothing for it.

Draco flopped back on his bed in a fit of annoyance, the headmaster's words echoing in his ears.

"_I am sure that your father is quite proud, in his own way."_

Fat chance at that, Draco snorted. He'd long ago learned that with his father, love and pride had a price. When he'd made the Quidditch team second year, his father had bought the team new brooms, instead of telling Draco he was proud. And after that first disastrous match against Potter and the Gryffindors, his father had not spoken to Draco for the rest of the term, not even letting him come home for Christmas.

Father would be proud if Draco managed to dig up something useful on Potter, something that would help the Dark Lord and further the cause. And that was, truthfully, the only reason he was being allowed to pursue something so childish and frivolous. A Malfoy would never play a professional sport, even Quidditch. It was uncouth.

He got up from his bed and went to the enchanted window, which was charmed to show the view outside. Of course, being in the dungeons, windows were a bit impractical, but he and Blaise had figured out the complex charm and set the view to the front lawn of the castle, where they could see the Forbidden Forest to one side, and the Quidditch pitch to the other. The pitch was silent now, and in the light of the half moon, Draco could just make out the outline of the near rings.

There was no way Potter was going to show him up this time, he decided. He donned a light cloak and headed for the door. He would be better than Potter, even if it meant he had to practice all night.


End file.
